With a Little Bit of Blood

by D. E. Ireland

  “You seem most serious. This is your first hunt, ja? I am sure it makes you afraid.”

  Eliza turned to meet the antagonistic gaze of Count Rudolf. “Not at all. I only wish they’d start. It’s rather dull sitting here. Nothing to do but listen to horses stamp their hooves.”

  The count’s mouth fell open as he stared at the cross. “What is that you wear?”

  “Oh, this.” She lightly stroked it. “A gift.”

  “That cannot be. Impossible. Who gave the cross to you? I demand to know!”

  His raised voice drew glances from the people around them. “As I said, it was a gift. And I see no reason to tell you who gave it to me.”

  He muttered in German, then nudged his horse closer. “Do not play games with me, fräulein. You are not clever enough. Tell me how much you want. Jezt! Now!”

  She raised her riding crop. “I will not allow you to startle my horse, count. So back up and calm down. Otherwise, I may decide not to discuss my cross with you at all.”

  His face reddened with rage. “Foolish girl.” After another shocked glance at the cross, he struck his horse’s flanks. He rode up to his wife, who had been speaking with the master of the hunt. The count whispered to her. She threw an astonished look at Eliza.

  Interesting. Did both von Weisingers know about the cross of Charlemagne? Nothing else could account for their reaction. Lily Marlowe rode up, blocking her view.

  “What did you say to the Austrian?” she asked with a laugh. “Whatever it was, it sure got his trousers in a bunch.”

  Eliza didn’t have time to answer. Lily now saw the cross, but her reaction was different than Count Rudolf’s. She appeared amused. “What are you wearing around your neck? Are you so nervous about riding in the hunt, you’re praying to God to protect you?” She laughed again.

  “I thought it looked pretty against the black silk,” Eliza said with a casual air. “I wasn’t aware jewelry wasn’t allowed at these things.”

  Lily regarded her with mild contempt. “Sweetie, if you wanted to wear jewelry today, you could have borrowed some of mine. Even my costume jewelry is better than that.” She scrunched up her nose. “You look like one of those Catholic nuns. All you need is a veil.”

  “Thank you. I’ve always liked nuns’ habits. Those lovely flowing robes.”

  “I’ll never understand you Brits.” Lily sighed. “Anyway, I’d better get back to Freddy. He’s shaking so much, he may fall off his horse before the hunt begins. In fact, you should give him your cross. I think he’s been praying ever since he got in the saddle. The boy is not a natural horseman.” With a careless wave, Lily rode back to a frantic Freddy.

  Eliza shifted her gaze to Sir Anthony and Lady Annabel. They looked in her direction and nodded. She smiled back, then kicked her horse forward.

  “How are you both this morning?” Eliza asked when she drew up beside them. “I missed seeing you at breakfast. Then again, so many people showed up.”

  Sir Anthony’s greeting to her died once he caught sight of the cross and his face flushed purple. Even his horse’s ears flattened, as if aware of its rider’s agitation.

  “I never come down to breakfast,” Lady Annabel said. “And my husband decided to take an early morning walk. He missed breakfast entirely. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  He ignored her. “I have not seen you wear that cross before, Miss Doolittle,” he said gruffly. “Has it been in your possession long?”

  “No, but I’ve already grown fond of it. Looks rather antique. I wonder if it’s as old as my cameo brooch.”

  Sir Anthony seemed as if he were trying to keep his emotions in check. “Perhaps.”

  “If I sold it, do you think it would fetch much money?”

  His expression turned wary. “Are you selling it? If so, I may be an interested buyer.”

  Lady Annabel rubbed her forehead with a pinched expression. “I fear I am not in the mood for riding today. My headache grows worse by the minute. And the noise from the hounds has driven me to distraction. I shall never be able to tolerate three hours of barking.”

  “Fox hounds do not bark, Annabel. They bay.” Sir Anthony gave an impatient wave. “If you do not wish to take part, return your horse to the stable.”

  With a curt nod at both of them, Lady Annabel left. Eliza suspected that if it weren’t so crowded with riders, she would have kicked her horse into a canter.

  A horn blast sounded. Everyone stopped talking and steered their horses into place.

  “We shall speak about your cross later,” Sir Anthony said. “And you should decide on a price, should you wish to part with it.”

  “What if I decide to keep it?”

  “You may be the one to pay the price then.” He shot her a calculating look, then moved off. Just in time, too.

  The hunt had begun.

  23

  Higgins fought the impulse to cover his ears with a few sofa pillows. He had an even stronger urge to shove one into Philippe’s mouth. Anything to keep the Frenchman from singing.

  “Buzz, buzz around, keep a-buzzin; around,” Philippe warbled as he stood by the phonograph. He kept his gaze fixed on Nathalie. “We’ll be just as happy as can beeee.”

  Who knew music could be so excruciating? Philippe had sung along to a dozen phonograph discs in the music room. Nathalie sat on the loveseat, swooning with every out of tune note. None of the songs were in French, forcing Higgins to cringe at the chap’s labored attempts to sing English lyrics.

  “Be my little baby bumble beeeeee.” Philippe’s wretched voice grew stronger each time he reached the chorus.

  They had listened to Be My Little Baby Bumble Bee four times. This popular hit of 1912 was the couple’s clear favorite. But Higgins had already been subjected to tunes even more dismal. And if Philippe dared to play Daddy Has A Sweetheart And Mother Is Her Name once more, Higgins might smash the phonograph.

  Higgins wished he had gone to the village with Detective Ramsey. Even if someone did try to run them down with a motorcar, it would be preferable to this agony.

  Philippe opened his arms wide and belted out, “Honey, keep a buzzin’ pleaseeeee.” Then he did a little spin.

  Good grief. Choreography, too! Nathalie sprang to her feet and swayed to the music. If the pair broke into the can-can, Higgins would be not held accountable for his actions. He tried to focus on a history volume of medieval France he’d taken from the library. But the exploits of Louis XI were no match for a lovestruck young couple with access to a phonograph.

  Tossing the book aside, Higgins’s thoughts drifted to Eliza and the fox hunt. It could take hours before the fox had either been caught, or successfully eluded the hounds. He refused to spend that entire time with Philippe and Nathalie. Not that they were aware of him.

  A visit below stairs could prove distracting. He felt around in his suit pocket for his notebook. May as well take the opportunity to mingle with the servants and write down any interesting dialects a maidservant or footman might possess. He also hoped to persuade the cook to serve him a bowl of the cock-a-leekie soup he’d been smelling for the past hour.

  As Nathalie joined Philippe in singing “We’ll be just as happy as can be”, Higgins snuck out of the music room. He felt instantly better. So did his ears.

  Higgins preferred the manor house emptied of people. The servants were below stairs, and Clara pretended to battle the sniffles in her bedchamber. Pausing in the grand foyer, he welcomed the peace and solitude. After his visit to the kitchen, he’d retire to his bedroom, despite Colin Ramsey’s warnings. Who was around to threaten him? Except for Philippe and Nathalie, all the guests were at the fox hunt. And he didn’t believe the French couple capable of murdering anything but song lyrics.

  The front door swung open. “Where is that derelict butler?” Lady Annabel demanded. “I shouldn’t have to open the door myself. It’s uncivilized.”

  “Why?” Higgins asked. “Have you lost the use of your arms?”

  “Very funny
, Henry.” She kicked the door shut behind her, wincing at the noise. “A butler or footman should be here to greet us all the time.”

  “Baxter is below stairs, as are the other servants,” Higgins informed her. “With most of the guests riding to hounds, it gives them time to get their other work done.”

  “I’ve never seen a household more haphazardly run.”

  She tried to walk past, but Higgins stopped her. “Did something go wrong at the hunt?”

  “No. Why should it?”

  “Because you’re dressed for the hunt, yet you’re here.” He nodded at her black riding habit, silk top hat, and riding crop, identical to Eliza’s. “Unless the fox surrendered himself rather than being run ragged.”

  Annabel threw him a pained look. “This morning I woke with a dreadful headache. I hoped the fresh air might help, but it only got worse. And those hounds. A person can’t think once they start barking.” She waved a hand. “Excuse me. They ‘bay’, according to my husband. I simply could not face hours of listening to the dogs and jumping fences.”

  “But the hunt began on time?”

  “I hadn’t even made it back to the stable when the horn sounded.” She rubbed her temples. “At least I said my goodbyes to my husband and your Cockney flower girl.”

  “Eliza and Sir Anthony planned to ride together?” Higgins asked in surprise.

  “I have no idea. When I left they were discussing jewelry,” Annabel said. “My husband found her gold cross most intriguing.”

  Higgins almost choked. “Gold cross!”

  “Don’t shout. Yes, Miss Doolittle wore a gold cross to the hunt.”

  “Damnation! I swear Eliza is incapable of sensible thought. That girl is maddening!”

  “And you are deafening. I refuse to listen to you bellow a moment longer when my head is ready to explode.” Pushing him aside with her riding crop, she marched up the wide marble stairs.

  Eliza had deliberately let everyone see the cross! Oh, Higgins knew very well how her mind worked. She thought to use herself as bait during the fox hunt. A fox hunt that included the killer. So brave – and so foolish. She’d left him no choice but to haul her back.

  Higgins took a few steps towards the telephone room, then stopped. It would take too much time to put through a call to the village constable; even longer before Colin and the chauffeur drove back here. And he knew enough about fox hunts to realize the riders would be traversing over a terrain not particularly hospitable to a motorcar.

  He hurried back to the music room. Philippe and Nathalie twirled about the furniture to the strains of The Road to Mandalay.

  “Excuse me, Philippe,” Higgins said loudly.

  The couple threw startled looks in his direction. “Oui, Professeur?” Philippe asked.

  “I hate to interrupt this dance, but I am in desperate need of your aeroplane.”

  What jolly fun. Although she enjoyed riding over the estate this past week, it couldn’t compare with the excitement of the hunt. She felt a thrill as she and the other riders cantered over fields, raced up and down grassy hills, then leaned forward as the horses jumped over yet another hurdle. It felt like flying. Who needed an aeroplane when one had a horse?

  Being so windy, it was even easier to imagine herself airborne when she jumped another fence or hedge. And the fox had led everyone on quite a merry chase. She’d heard more than one rider complain about the shifting winds, which made it difficult for the hounds to track the scent. This suited Eliza. She hoped the fox would escape his gang of pursuers and live to face another fine October day.

  Eliza had been so caught up in the hunt, she often lost sight of the riders from the house party. Richard was far out in front with the hunt master; she’d never catch him. However, she did pass Count and Countess von Weisinger when they reached the open pasture near the creek. Occupied with splashing through the water, she forgot to check if the pair were still close behind. Probably not. Despite their boasts of fox hunting experience, Eliza suspected she was the more naturally skilled rider. She was also lucky to be on such a splendid horse. The mare responded with only the lightest touch from Eliza’s left leg and riding crop.

  Sir Anthony, too, seemed fortunate in his mount, a dappled gray that jumped over each fence and hurdle with inches to spare. Even during the more hazardous parts of the chase, Eliza kept him in her field of vision. Or perhaps it was the other way around. He wanted to keep an eye on her – and the cross she wore. No matter what his intention, Sir Anthony rode well.

  The same could not be said for Freddy. He either clutched his reins too tight, or loosened them too much. It confused his horse. And he went too fast, faster even than Eliza. She doubted that was Freddy’s intention. He looked like he was clinging for dear life, hoping the horse would take control. Lily should have kept watch over him. The actress proved she was a skilled horsewoman during their ride yesterday morning.

  But Lily rode ahead of Freddy, glancing over her shoulder after each jump with a gleeful expression, as if taunting Freddy to follow. Eliza could have passed both of them, but she worried about Freddy. The fool didn’t have an ounce of ambition or sense. And to impress Lily, he’d put his life at risk by riding in the fox hunt.

  Eliza winced as he barely cleared the next fence.

  Forget about Freddy, she told herself, as she and her horse smoothly sailed over the fence. Let him break his neck on the hunt. He was no longer any of her business. Eliza had just kicked her horse to pass him when Freddy yelled out. She heard him even over the hounds and the pounding hooves.

  His horse suddenly veered right. Along the edge of the pasture ran a line of trees, and the horse darted through them. Freddy almost fell off twice.

  Eliza raced after him. She no sooner cleared the trees and emerged into another open glen when she saw Freddy tumble to the ground. Eliza whipped her horse and quickly overtook the frightened gelding. Once the horse stopped, she reached over and grabbed the bridle. After she’d calmed the poor animal with soothing words, she led him back to Freddy, who’d gotten back on his feet. His hat had been knocked off; grass and dirt streaked his riding breeches. When he walked over to remount, Eliza saw that he limped slightly.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked once he climbed back in the saddle.

  He shot her an accusing look. “Why did you chase after me? You spooked my horse.”

  “Ungrateful idiot. If I hadn’t caught him, you’d have had to limp back to Banfield Manor. And you have no business taking part in a fox hunt. You can’t ride at all.”

  He brushed off the grass from his sleeves. “I’ve been riding longer than you, Eliza.”

  “Yes. All of it spent in a pony ring. I watched you today. I’m amazed you stayed on as long as you did. You could have been killed.” She shook her head at him. “Did you think to impress the movie actress by breaking your neck?”

  Freddy glared at her. One side of his face was bruised from where he’d fallen, and his blond hair held clumps of dirt. “I don’t have to impress Lily. She’s already quite taken with me. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Oh, we’ve all noticed,” Eliza said. “The two of you have done everything but tear each other’s clothes off in the drawing room.”

  “Why shouldn’t we? I’m in love with her. And she feels the same. That’s why we’re going to Italy.” His gaze grew cold. “Some women don’t pretend to care for a man, then keep him at arm’s length.”

  “Freddy, you’re an amusement to her. Nothing more. Once your adventure in Italy is done, she’ll be done with you. Sooner, if she finds an Italian gentleman more entertaining.”

  He flinched. “You’re jealous.”

  “I was when I first saw the two of you together. But not now.”

  “Hah! You got over your jealousy in a few days? Not likely.”

  “It’s true. I swear on the Colonel’s life.”

  Freddy’s eyes widened. He knew how much Colonel Pickering meant to her.

  “You were my first sweetheart, Freddy,�
� Eliza went on. “Even though you didn’t have a title or a vast estate, you treated me as a gentleman treats a lady. And you helped me to think of myself as a lady. It wasn’t only Higgins’s lessons and the Colonel’s gracious behavior which was responsible for that. It was your romantic devotion as well. So thank you.”

  For a moment, the love he once professed for her seemed to shine in his eyes. Then he turned away. “Is that detective devoted to you now?”

  “Time will tell.” Eliza took a deep breath. “Freddy, I want you to find happiness with another woman. I truly do. But Lily is not right for you. She’s much too worldly, for one. And I don’t think she’s been honest about her past. You should know—”

  “You know nothing about Lily or her past. Don’t embarrass yourself by pretending you do.” Freddy gathered up his reins in preparation for leaving.

  “I know she was Dwight Pentwater’s mistress,” Eliza said before he could ride away. “And I know they were together the night before he died.”

  “You’re a jealous liar! Lily hated him. Pentwater pursued her for years. He badgered her to become his lover, but she refused. A brave decision, given that she was afraid of him. Afraid of his power, his money, and how he could ruin her career if she made him too angry. That’s why she couldn’t ignore all his demands. But she was never his mistress!”

  So Lily hadn’t been honest with him. Eliza patted her horse, who took a few steps. The mare seemed eager to rejoin the hunt. “What demands?”

  “She persuaded people to invest with him. She delivered letters for him. Packages, too.” Freddy sighed with exasperation. “That’s why she’s in England. He told her to travel in the ship bringing that blasted motorcar across the ocean. But the police in America stopped her before she could board. They had questions for everyone associated with Pentwater.”

  “Lily was supposed to deliver the motorcar to Pentwater in England?”

  “Yes. She said when Pentwater fled America, he didn’t have time to bring anything but his clothes. But he loved that roadster and insisted she deliver it herself. Only the police delayed her own arrival in England. By the time she got here, your father had bought it at auction.” Freddy smoothed back his hair. He looked surprised when he realized his hat was gone.